The Unravelled Ferret

“Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.”

Hello to everyone at Westercon 52 who picks this up. I hope you enjoy it.
In the current installment of my employment history, I’ve landed at a company that produces high-capacity color printer servers, and my husband’s testing Internet commerce solutions. The bid to bring the Worldcon to the SF Bay Area in 2002 is heading into the homestretch (with more news about it in this issue). Before I start, I have a correction/apology to run. In my review of Further ConFusion in the last issue, I credited “Yarf!” with the status of oldest-running furry fanzine. Richard Chandler’s “Gallery” actually holds that title. I apologize to Mr. Chandler for that slip-up on my part.

“And now for something completely different.”

I already have a reference to this ‘zine on my links page, but I wanted to call Jim Doolittle’s “Fuzzy Logic” to people’s attention. It’s a unique specimen amongst furry fanzines — it specializes in commentary, critique, and news instead of focusing solely on art or fiction.
Issues have contained articles on topics ranging from the state of the fandom to role-playing games and the parallels between furries and pop art. The book reviews don’t automatically sing the praises of any book containing a walking rug, as is demonstrated by the contrasting reviews of Lisanne Norman’s Dark Nadir in a recent issue. “Logic” is also unafraid of stirring up controversy, a relief in the midst of so many yes-men magazines in all genres.
Doolittle seems to have found an untapped well in the furry community by producing this online magazine. Here’s hoping it doesn’t overflow and drown him or dry up too quickly. Its link is http://fuzzylogic.betterbox.net/

“This is going to feel a little... weird.”

The Matrix, a new film starring Keanu Reeves, is an attempt at a deep and complex film that makes you think about reality and other concepts while still delivering the easy thrill. The attempt, to be blunt, fails.
In The Matrix, Reeves plays a computer hacker called Neo who is selected by a group of freedom fighters to rescue humanity from a large-scale virtual reality simulator set up by a pack of rogue AIs. Along the way, the leader of this group, Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne in a terrible waste of talent), spouts deconstructionist theory about the nature of reality and otherwise acts as a cyberpunk Yoda. The only refreshing thing about this film is the special effects. The only compelling things are the action sequences. The rest of the movie is poisoned by wooden acting, bad scriptwriting, and hackneyed concepts.
In the end, this film demonstrates what happens when people who don’t know science fiction beyond what they think “Star Trek” is about try to write it (the last project for the creators of this film was the gangsters-with-a-twist noir flick Bound). They think they’re presenting hot new concepts in a neato-keen sci-fi framework, but just end up repeating what fans of the genre have already seen done better and thirty years before. They don’t even have the grace to explore the full implications of their claims. If the physical laws don’t apply to the people who know the truth about the Matrix, they should be doing more interesting things than bending spoons and freezing bullets in mid-air. The line about how it takes The One to achieve that level strikes me as cheating. I also doubt the freedom fighters were fully aware of the impact freeing billions of people from lives as human power sources will have on their city’s infrastructure. “Revolution now, reality later.” Right. Sadly realistic of them, but stupid nonetheless. The less said about the plot holes, the better. This film should have been titled 10,000 Special Effects In Search of a Script

“He’s never met a princess before. Just queens.”

I’m beginning to wonder if the world of cinema is on the verge of splitting into two groups. One would limit itself to huge blockbuster films with negligible plot lines and either special effects budgets that match the gross national product of most African nations or enough toilet humor to keep junior high school lavatories going for weeks. The other would only create thoughtful, well-written films which have almost no special effects but stories and actors who make you glad you ponied up at the box office. The Matrixwould be an example of the former. Gods and Monsters is most definitely in the latter category.
Sir Ian McKellen stars as James Whale, a gay British film director who dreamed of making serious films but ended up being noted for his productions of Frankenstein, The Bride of Frankenstein, and Showboat. This film is based on a novel about the end of his life, which was spent in near seclusion in southern California. His mind slowly becoming more and more chaotic due to a stroke, Whale befriends his gardener, an almost stereotypically straight bruiser played by Brendan Fraser. Their relationship creates a platonic triangle with Whale’s devoutly Christian housekeeper, Hannah (Lynn Redgrave), and sets Fraser’s character on the path to broadening his horizons past the next lawn or romp in the hay.
It’s hard to pick a place to begin praising this film. It’s beautifully shot, well-acted, well-written, and doesn’t strike a false note once. Some might claim that McKellen was typecast as an aging gay man, but his previous work while still in the closet puts the lie to that immediately. The most I’d say is that it gave him something in common with Whale, letting him wear the part comfortably while shaping it on-screen. Fraser definitely showed he has more depth than what was required of him in George of the Jungle, but there were moments when his dumbfounded stare would make anyone who saw George start talking back at the screen in pidgeon English. Redgrave is, as she always has been, brilliant, and the supporting cast works well to the smallest part.
This is another must-see film, and I wish I’d seen it before I’d cast my Hugo ballot. If Apollo 13 qualifies as a fictionalization of a real science event, surely a film about one of the greatest monster movie makers of all time is sufficiently related, especially because of the fantasy elements woven in thanks to Whale’s mental state. Regardless, I’m buying a copy of this one.

“Here we go again...”

Yep, it’s Hugo nomination time again. Here’s a link to the list of nominees. I’ve got plenty of lead time to make appropriate noises before Aussiecon 3 this time, though, so here goes. This will be both commentary on the buzz and my own picks where I make any.
OVERALL – Bruce Sterling is in for a hell of a night. And I wonder if Michael Swanwick will be three times as nervous?
BEST NOVEL – The only nominee I have read so far is Connie Willis’ To Say Nothing of the Dog. I’ll be reviewing that later this issue.
BEST DRAMATIC PRESENTATION – It’s blatantly obvious that the only reason “Sleeping in Light” was nominated is that it was the series finale for B5. It was a weak episode in many ways. Personally, I nominated “Day of the Dead.” Out of the other four, I’ve seen two of the films, and greatly prefer The Truman Show over Star Trek: Insurrection. Frankly, I’d prefer the B5 ep over the Trek movie. Weak as it was, it at least made cogent sense.
BEST PROFESSIONAL EDITOR – I have a deep-seated personal bias toward Patrick Nielsen Hayden after dealing with him electronically on rec.arts.sf.fandom. I also think his body of work with Tor has been quite exemplary, so I’m not feeling particularly guilty about endorsing him.
BEST SEMIPROZINE – Kent Brewster may actually be the publisher of “Speculations,” but that doesn’t change my affection for the publication, which I’d have without knowing the man personally. It’s very useful and interesting, and it’s never won before. In my mind, that’s more than sufficient.
BEST FANZINE – I hold no ill will toward the Hugo ballot veterans like Dave Langford or Mike Glyer (especially not after the latter gent quoted me in his publication, “File 770”), but “Plokta” is a very deserving publication whose time has come.
BEST FAN WRITER – I am well and truly undecided right now. Even taking my philosophy about incumbents/veteran nominees into consideration, Evelyn Leeper and Maureen Kincaid Speller are two fine writers (I have yet to read Devney’s work).
BEST FAN ARTIST – Ian Gunn is a sentimental favorite. Not much more can be said by this humble writer.

“Dearum dearum Juju...”

Many a book has been published which uses time travel as its basis. I have read few which extracts both humor and a thorough exploration of potential social impact out of it. Connie Willis’ To Say Nothing of the Dogis such a book. Using subtle humor and obviously well thought-out concepts of the repercussions of the smallest actions, Willis weaves a complex tale of the future reaching back into the past in deeper and deeper layers as the book progresses.
Ned Henry, a twenty-first century historian, is introduced to us in the wreckage of Coventry Cathedral on the day after the World War II bombing raid that reduced most of it to a pile of smoking rubble. Having gone back and forth in time entirely too often in a short period of time, he is redirected to Victorian England to get some rest. Instead, he and an associate try to figure out what a cat and a cathedral have to do with the problems their organization’s been having with sending people to the precise time and place they’re supposed to be going. It works out to be a complex structure of time and timing with many humorous twists and turns along the way.
Willis’ writing skill is amazing. The consistency of the voice of Ned Henry, our narrator, was so solid that I was a little surprised to note that the author is American. Writing out of gender or culture is a challenge by itself. Doing both at the same time and doing it well is a marvelous achievement. The issues surrounding time travel are explored in both macro scopic and microscopic levels, from the concept of time lag to its potential abuses at the hands of a woman with more money than sense. She evokes no fewer than three different eras with clarity and wit.
Definitely go and buy this book. It’s worth owning.

“Look, Toto!”

When I started this fanzine, I made reference to Cheryl Morgan and her publication, “Emerald City,” as one of the inspirations behind my work. Having noticed in one of her recent issues that she is bound and determined to review “Ferret,” I figured turnabout was fair play. This was, of course, her intention, but I’m not upset at being gently nudged. I should have done this review three or four issues ago. I confess to counting her among my friends (or at least very friendly acquaintances), but I grew to like her publication independent of my feelings for her as a person.
Morgan is a country-hopping fan who would probably be happier settling in one or another but can’t as long as her job situation forbids it. She makes the best of it, in part by producing a monthly fanzine discussing her travels and explorations into the realm of SF/F. Her reviews are as heavily biased toward books as mine have been toward movies and television shows, but that is at least as much a personal choice on my part as anything else. Her reviews are thorough and honest, and I’ve used them to find my way to several books I might not have looked at otherwise, such as the Connie Willis novel I just wrote about earlier. She also has a pleasant amount of self-control in how much of her private life invades the text. Some personalzines come across as excuses for the writer to commit ostensibly therapeutic mental diarrhea; Morgan does not make this mistake. Further, her writing overall is consistently entertaining, whether discussing her feelings about baseball or the misogyny in an author’s book.
If I were to make any negative noises in her magazine’s direction, it’d be nitpicks about content which really boil down to differences in spheres of knowledge and individual opinions. This is a strong, sure piece of work. She puts it out on a monthly basis as often as possible; you can find it online at http://www.emcit.com/

“Honey, I’m home!”

As I have done every year since 1986 and will likely do until either I or the convention ceases to exist on the face of this earth, I attended BayCon over Memorial Day weekend (Memorial Day falling as it does on the last Monday in May, this makes the dates May 28-1 this year for those of you unfamiliar with American holidays). As with most years, I worked on the convention staff. My role for the year was head of publications. My at-con position was chief editor of the daily newsletter. I had the newsletter position last year and didn’t manage to get out of the office except to do party reviews and eat until Sunday afternoon. This year, I actually had time off in between issues. Having a faster computer and a better grasp of the job helped a lot.
As with many people who work the convention, I arrived on the day before the event to settle in to my function room and set up for the first issue. This was mostly uneventful. Frankly, so was the rest of the convention as far as my job was concerned. Minor staff issues aside, it all ran pretty smoothly. The Kinko’s never had a power outage. Their hardware always worked when I got there. I was able to get the issues distributed in a timely fashion. I was able to pack out of my room with time to spare because our hotel liaisons (the fantastically skilled Jeanne Goldfein and Jim “Sylvan” Sullivan) negotiated late checkouts for the staff rooms. All this smooth sailing let me get out the door and do other things.
I was placed on one panel this year. Appropriately enough, it was called “APAs and Fanzines and Ezines, Oh, My!” I shared the table with Jane Mailander, a writer who has appeared in both fanzines and professional publications, and Kent Brewster, the publisher of the Hugo-nominated magazine “Speculations” and Toastmaster for BayCon ’99. Unfortunately, since the panel was scheduled first thing Friday afternoon, there were only three people in the audience, and the third person walked in halfway through. One of the three was my husband, Bob. The other person to be there from the beginning was Ian Stackpole, like myself one of the off-again on-again denizens of rec.arts.sf.fandom. Since neither gent had many questions about ‘zines, we ended up in a rambling conversation that greatly resembled a thread on rasf. We started with our respective ‘zine experiences and segued into such topics as the evils of media tie-in novels and slash fiction based on Gilligan’s Island. The first topic would come back to haunt Kent, the instigator of that specific thread, when he was sitting on the dais during the Meet the Guests reception’s speech segment that same night.
The aforementioned reception is always a good time, so long as the guests cooperate and don’t either bore us or show up drunk and embarrass themselves. This year, we got to have some controversy with our hors d’oeuvres. Before that is discussed further, a little background is in order. BayCon is described, at least in public, as a general-interest convention or gencon. The standard definition of a gencon is that it contains events relating to most segments of science fiction fandom. By sheer force of the term, this includes media fandom. I have no issue with BayCon’s media presentations. I think that recognizing that SF/F is more than plain text on paper is a healthy thing. Other people, however, think that a handful of media-related panels and a pair of authors who write Star Warsnovels as part of their repertoire as guests of honor are a handful of panels and two GoHs too many. These are the people to whom the male half of our Writer Guests of Honor pair, Kevin J. Anderson, spoke when he railed against the myths of the media tie-in novel and its writer.
Anderson is in a position to comment. He has made the New York Times best seller list more often than most writers. His non-Star Warswork has been nominated for Hugos and Nebulas. He’s writing for a franchise which grants its writers more leeway than many would expect, myself included. Finally, he has page upon page of testimony from his fans that reading his Star Warsnovels have changed their lives. It’s understandable if he bristles at being accused of abandoning “real” SF, writing for the money instead of the love, writing static characters in static situations, and contributing to the decline and fall of shelf space in SF/F sections in bookstores. He has facts and figures to refute all of those libels and more, some of which are derived from the same magazines which decry the existence of media tie-in novels.
During the speech, I watched Brewster due to his admitted antipathy toward the media novel. His cheek twitched a few times, and he didn’t look up at Anderson very often. I can only guess what he was thinking. I noticed other people in the audience either paying close attention or deliberately ignoring him. I don’t know if he won anyone over completely, but he certainly made me think about my prejudices toward media tie-in novels outside of the “Babylon 5” franchise. Of course, I should have known things weren’t quite the same with Star Warsnovels as some media tie-in novels when I noticed that Han Solo and Princess Leia had given birth to twins in one of Anderson’s novels.
Over the course of the rest of the weekend, I attended parties and dances, said hello to a lot of old friends, and met with other people who I only recognized as e-mail addresses on rasf and the SMOFS mailing list (like Tom Galloway). I received many nice compliments on my newsletter and the work I did on the program book. Not much else happened, really. After Friday night, it was a very straightforward BayCon weekend. I’ll be back next year. I’d better, or the chairwoman will string me up by my toes.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Unless you’ve been in seclusion for the past two years, you know that the long-awaited prequel trilogy to the Star Wars trilogy has finally started appearing in theaters with the release of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. How this movie managed to top Godzillain hype, I don’t think I want to know. Whether any movie will top it afterward is something I don’t want to contemplate. How the movie was is the topic here, anyway.
TPM tells the story of the setup for the takeover of the Republic by the Empire, the situation faced by the heroes of the first trilogy. It introduces some of the carryover characters as well, such as Obi-Wan Kenobi. Overall, I enjoyed it but I didn’t like it. The script did not hold my attention, so I spent all of my time in the film being slapped across the face by blatant references to the first trilogy and otherwise being distracted by items that, with a better script, would have only come to me later.
I think the one thing that angered me the most about this movie was the pseudo-biological explanation for Jedi knights and their manipulation of The Force which was introduced. What had been a mystical, unexplained attunement to the cosmos causing the Jedi to be warrior-priests became an almost accidental result of an infestation of sentient mitochondria. Lucas must have thought that would elevate the Star Wars universe into the realms of hard science fiction instead of the space opera fantasy everyone else has it classified as being. Guess what, Georgie, it doesn’t. Bad science does not a hard SF classic make. It just cheapens the whole effect.
Other items which this film could have done without included the gratuitous nature of Anakin Skywalker’s birth, aliens only having accents when the humor or stereotype called for them, and the contradictions between the first trilogy and this movie. Among other glaring examples, I really hope they come out with a damn good explanation as to why, after several demonstrations in the first trilogy that masters of the Force can sense each other from parsecs away, two Jedi masters were standing within 20 feet of the Dark Lord of the Sith and acted like he was just another mundane.
I did find things I enjoyed, though, like I said. The movie was visually marvelous, a Lucasfilm tradition which has never been broken. The director got an acting job out of Brian Blessed (Boss Nass) which disguised him almost completely. But, then again, the dear man never had the chance to scream anything like “Dive!” or “For God and King Richard!” at any point in the script. Some of the references thrown in were less blatant than others, and I was glad to see that the idea of the double-ended lightsaber was realized. I wished to see one very badly since the first film, as I’m a bit of a quarterstaff nut.
I will probably go see the other two movies in order to find out how Lucas gets the characters from here to there and whether the films will be as dark as he promises or just simply bad attempts at being depressing. I won’t be jumping to buy this one when it’s first released, though. I’m mildly frustrated that I paid full price to see it in the first place.

“It’s deja vu all over again.”

Last issue, I spent a fair amount of page space discussing the two bid situation that the Worldcon committee formerly known as SF in ’02 was staging. Now I get to revisit that, because we don’t have a bid for San Francisco anymore.
Back in 1990, when ConFrancisco had just won their bid, the San Francisco Marriott dumped us like a bag of garbage when the Ford Motor Company waved lots of greenbacks under their noses in exchange for the hotel space we’d been promised. We fast-forward to 1999 to witness the Argent, our intended central hotel for the SF bid in the wake of the Marriott’s insistence on draconian regulations and expensive food requirements, giving the space we asked for to another group because one of their staffers neglected to enter us in their reservation system. That second group provided cash on the barrelhead, thus cementing their claim and our exclusion. (I shoiuld note that the Argent was very apologetic. This was no swipe at us.)
I suspect this whole folderol with San Francisco, following on the heels of the problems the Boston Worldcon bid had, is demonstrating the true beginning of the end of Worldcons in first-tier cities beyond Los Angeles and Chicago. More and more companies are seeing the wisdom of staging their big events on holiday weekends, which means we’re competing against deep pockets on a more frequent basis. Further, convention space rents are outpacing inflation in how quickly they’re raised in high-demand areas. Fans are going to get more acquainted with smaller airports over time, I think.
At least we have a fairly bright side to look at. We proved our inheritance as scions of Silicon Valley by having a back-up site lined up in the form of the San Jose bid we’ve been pushing the last few months. Now, we get to focus on that site exclusively and save ourselves from a split personality syndrome. It really is a nice site. It isn’t perfect, but no site is when you get down to it. And should we defeat the Roswell, NM bid, we should manage to stage a pretty respectable Worldcon there. You’ll just have to forgive me if I find myself tempted to spit on the grounds of the Argent the next time I’m in the neighborhood. Much as I felt that San Jose was the better site after all, I resent the fact that the fans didn’t get a chance to tell us which way they would have preferred things. Unless, of course, they prefer Roswell. May the best bid win.